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It shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone that Mike Lawson likes sex.
After all, he’d spent a good deal of time post-Rachel building up something of a reputation for himself. And that reputation was that Mike Lawson was off his leash and ready to get down to business.
To be clear. That business was fucking every woman who wanted a piece of him.
In spite of that reputation, though, Mike wouldn’t say that he’s the most experienced guy around. When it comes to sex, he’s always been more of a meat and potatoes kind of man. Which isn’t to say that he hasn’t tried some weird shit in the bedroom—only one life to live or whatever—but he’s never really understood the draw.
Call him a prude (Which, that’d be rich.), but what’s wrong with a plain, good old roll in the sack?
He’s heard all the arguments. He knows that most men have fantasies about shit that will never in their life happen and that gets them going for whatever reason. Mike’s done most of that and it was good. But it’s not like it was better than anything else he’s ever tried. Not much had ever struck him as being more sexy than anything else. Is a mouth on his cock inordinately better than a hand?
It’s sex. What isn’t to like?
Honestly he’s got enough kinks in his back, he doesn’t really need them in the bedroom.
He’s a fucking stud, okay? He doesn’t need gimmicks to get his partner (Partners even, the smug son of a bitch inside his head supplied) off.
But this. This might be the start of something new and dangerous.
“Hands to yourself, old man,” Ginny commands, one slim hand closing around his wrist and pressing it into the mattress next to his hip. She waits until he looks down at her smug face and nods before continuing.
When her mouth wraps around his dick again, though, his resolve is tested. His fingers tangle in the already rumpled sheets and Ginny’s tongue flutters a complex dance just below his head.
Fuck. He always slides his hands in her hair when she does this. Not to lead her, just to feel like he’s in control.
Which, he’ll admit maybe counts as a kink. He likes being in control. Doesn’t necessarily get off on it the way some people do, but Mike Lawson is a leader. It’s part of what makes him a good captain.
Of course, he should’ve known better than to expect Ginny Baker to take a back seat for long.
Like she can sense his struggle, Ginny meets his gaze. Christ. Her mouth wrapped around his cock and her big, wide eyes tracing up his stomach and chest to meet up with his is maybe the hottest thing he’s ever seen. To be honest, though, that distinction is constantly changing. Everything Ginny does is maybe the hottest thing he’s ever seen.
She’s too hot for her own good.
For his own good.
“Fuck. Gin,” he pants, feeling his balls and stomach begin to tighten. He reaches for her but stops when she raises one perfect eyebrow. His hand falls back to the bed like a stone. “Lemme fuck you, baby.”
She pulls off him with a wet pop and Mike groans. Her hand continues to slide up and down in a slow jack and Jesus. How is that enough to have his hips bucking off the bed? “Who says you won’t?”
“Wanna fuck you now. C’mon, Gin. Let me fuck you.”
He sounds desperate. Hell, he is desperate. She’s been teasing him for too long already. At this moment, Mike wants nothing more than to bury his cock deep in Ginny. If begging gets him there, then so be it.
She studies him for a bit, her hand continuing its lazy strokes. She waits long enough that Mike wants to whine behind his teeth, low and needy. Finally, with one last, lingering lick up his shaft, Ginny crawls up his body and settles herself low on his stomach. His dick settles between her ass cheeks and her wet cunt drags against the muscles of his abs. Rather than guide him inside her, Ginny leans forward and captures his mouth with hers.
She tastes like him.
He’s never been that squeamish about bodily fluids, but it’s never been a thing for him, either. But, fuck. From Ginny’s tongue, it might become one.
Mike gets so lost in the push and pull of tongues and teeth that he doesn’t pay attention to what his hands are doing. All he knows is that he’s got one hand wrapped around her thigh and two fingers slick with her juices before Ginny pulls away from him with a stern look.
“Do I need to hold you down?”
It’s clearly meant to be a joke, but Mike freezes and stares at her wide-eyed. Ginny’s teasing smile turns a little speculative. Her head tilts as she examines him for a moment and Mike swallows, suddenly nervous.
Moving slow enough that he could stop her if he wanted, Ginny takes hold of both of his wrists and presses them into the mattress beside his head. She stretches over him, and Mike can practically feel every muscle of her long, lean body vibrate with tension as she pins him to the bed.
She’s strong, of course she is, but Mike is stronger. If he wanted, he could break her grip in a heartbeat. Flip her over and fuck her into the mattress. Fuck her so hard and so long that she forgets her name, forgets everything but his body on hers and the pleasure it’s creating.
He doesn’t.
Mike presses up against her grip just enough that she leans her weight into him pointedly, but doesn’t do anything else to throw her off.
His hips buck, though, sliding against Ginny’s ass. It’s good. He could probably get off if she lets him keep rutting against her.
But it could be amazing.
For her, too. What? It’s not cockiness when it’s just true.
Thankfully, Ginny shifts her hips, and they’ve been doing this long enough that all it takes is a flex of his and he’s sliding inside her velvet heat.
It doesn’t matter how many times they’ve done this, it always feels like the first. Mike’s always in awe of Ginny Baker, her strength and grace, but something compounds that reverence when they’re in bed. (Or not bed. Nearly every flat surface in his house has been christened at this point.)
It’s not some weirdness about sex. Not really. It’s more about the fact that Mike still can’t quite believe that she’d choose him. That she’d keep choosing him, again and again and mostly without thought. She trusts him enough with her body and her heart and her mind to share this intimacy.
And he trusts her, too.
Which is why he’s only frustrated that he can’t touch her. Aside from where she rocks herself in his lap, their only points of contact are the occasional brush of her hair against his neck and the curl of her fingers around his wrists. Each and every one lights him up from the outside in. He’d swear her skin trails sparks because everything feels electric.
He wishes she’d lean forward more, let her tits drag across his mouth. Mike knows how wild Ginny can get when his teeth scrape over her nipples.
Maybe she doesn’t wild right now, though. Her thumb rubs against the pulse point of his left wrist, but she doesn’t let up on the weight.
Control looks good on her.
The slick slide of her pussy up and down his cock is good. It’s more than good, but he’s been spoiled by getting to fuck Ginny Baker all the time. It’s made better by the swivel of her hips, but Mike wants more.
He wants to push this boundary she’s set up.
Mike plants his feet on the bed and drives up into her welcoming cunt. Ginny’s breath hitches, but her fingers curl warningly against his wrists. That’s fine. Better than fine if the way his abs ripple and his cock twitches inside of her is any indication. He keeps thrusting into her, kicking the lazy pace she’d set up a notch.
Ginny meets him thrust for thrust, and her cunt squeezes rhythmically around him because she probably wants to kill him. But what a way to go. Her hips start to roll and her eyes squeeze shut. Mike’s entranced, but still sees the way she frowns in concentration. Her weight shifts and moves back a few times, indecisive. Like she can’t decide what’s more important.
As soon as he has the thought, it’s out of his mouth.
“Shit, babe. You wanna touch yourself, don’t you? You wanna rub your clit, but you don’t wanna let me go.”
She whines, reedy and high, which Mike takes for confirmation.
“Let me, Gin,” he gasps as her cunt tightens around him in a shock of tiny flutters. Her eyes snap to his, wild but still assessing. Mike swallows and repeats himself. “Let me make you come.”
“Convince me,” she breathes, leaning down close enough to him that the words ghost against his lips.
Mike groans, but puts his mouth to work in the only way she’ll let him.
“I know just how to make you fall apart, Gin,” he growls, thinking about all the time he’s put into proving that point. “You always look so incredible and the way you fucking feel. It’s better than anything. I know you wanna come. Let me do it for you.”
As far as convincing arguments go, Mike’s heard better. To be fair, he is buried balls deep in Ginny Baker. That he could string actual sentences together was a feat in and of itself.
Good thing Ginny’s as close to the brink as he is, because she takes his sloppy justifications and releases one wrist. As soon as it’s free, his hand flashes between her thighs, finger pads going straight for her tight, straining clit. It’s a little awkward, especially when Ginny presses her palm into his shoulder to keep him flat on the mattress. Awkward, but it works.
Mike works her clit over and thrills in the way he can see his cock gliding in and out of her just beyond his fingers. Until Ginny whines and sits hard on his lap, hips furiously grinding against him. He gives her the whole flat of his palm to work against and the sounds that come out of her mouth are almost too much for him. Her fingers curl into his wrist and shoulder and Mike is sure that he’s going to have the crescent marks of her nails imprinted in his skin, but he doesn’t care.
Distantly, he thinks he might even like it.
Not when Ginny is coming apart on his dick and his hand, her body arched above his, and her breath hitting hot and dizzying against his cheek. Not when her climax triggers his own like a tidal wave and he comes inside her with a grunt and two last sloppy thrusts. He turns just enough to capture her lips, loves the way she licks into his mouth like she’s chasing the high of her orgasm. Like the secret lays on his tongue.
He’s acutely aware of the moment her hand unfurls from around his wrist. It suddenly feels light as air, even though Ginny hadn’t been leaning that much weight into it. Tentatively, he brings it up to cup her jaw and slide into her hair.
She hums against his lips and pulls away. One last peck and she lets herself slump against his chest. Maybe it should be a struggle to heave in the deep breaths he needs to even out, but Ginny’s sweaty, flushed body only feels right.
The callused pads of her fingers trace over the gouges her nails had dug in his shoulder. “Sorry,” she murmurs.
“S’fine,” he responds gruffly, though he can’t keep himself from shuddering as her fingers press down on the marks.
Ginny grins at him, wicked and utterly delighted. “You liked that, didn’t you, Lawson?”
He snorts but doesn’t deny it. “I like everything you do.”
“Mike,” she practically whines, propping herself up on his chest so she can peer down at him. He pointedly distracts himself with the way her tits drag against his pecs, dark and soft against the curls of his chest hair. Anything to avoid answering. “Mike,” she repeats, softer and closer. Her lips pass against his jaw. “I liked it. You’re always the one to drive me crazy. I liked giving you a taste of your own medicine.”
“I drive you crazy, huh?” he asks, his hand smoothing down her back and ignoring everything else. There would be time to indulge in sexuality-based crises later. Now, he has a naked, sated Ginny Baker plastered to him.
Or, he did.
Ginny rolls off him and to her feet. Mike watches appreciatively as she stretches, languid and unconcerned with her nudity. She saunters off to the bathroom, tossing her parting comment over her shoulder as she goes.
“I’m not fueling your ego, Mike. But if you want to try and prove yourself, you’re welcome to join me in the shower.”
He’s on his feet in a flash, creaking joints bedamned. Yeah, he would worry about previously unknown kinks now or later. And even before the sound of spraying water hit his ears, his mind was made up.
Later. Definitely later.